


to search for gravity

by melskyfall



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bodyguard, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fantasy, First Dates, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Gift Fic, Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Romance, Royalty, Slow To Update, sorryyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melskyfall/pseuds/melskyfall
Summary: Amidst the fallen, injured, and healthy walking out of the field in defeat, two figures stood: a woman with short hair glaring fierce eyes at a man clad in black, a mask covering his face.-In which Princess Marinette must entertain the victor of a competition with a few dates and a chance to her hand in marriage. Enter the mysterious Chat Noir.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. 一

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for my friend Mari! she mentioned wanting to read something like this once and I procrastinated until her birthday came up hahaha
> 
> I want to give all my thanks to my friend Reina for proofreading my first chapter <3
> 
> chapter count subject to change because my simple plot got out of hand (it was supposed to be a one shot)

The summer sun was ruthless, leaving her hands and cheeks flushed pink from the heat. With guards surrounding the princess in every corner and lack of someone by her side, Marinette felt more suffocated than ever. Even under the shade provided, Marinette continued sweating for what felt like hours.

She allowed a small sigh to escape her lips and watched the field below. A thick crowd chatted a storm into life, only a few competitors making their ways to the rink. Those from the same clans were obvious, decked in their signature colours. They teased and roughhoused, familiar with each other.

A princess's hand was rarely offered to such a great amount of people.

Children towards the front waved at her with excitement, making Marinette muster a smile and wave back. She loved her people, but though marriage was bound to happen to someone of her rank, it weighed heavy on her mind.

Marinette could still see a certain tension in the line of people's shoulders.

It was impossible for them to not feel the rising pressures in the kingdom. Patrols were longer and ridiculously thorough, the rising of soldiers in border villages impossible to miss. Even during such a large gathering, the guards were not usually so obvious in their presence. The people’s only comfort was the lack of official announcement made by the palace or royalty.

If something was amiss, a message would've been sent, no?

A part of Marinette’s heart broke at their trust being broken. She was sure few would have gathered for this opportunity if they knew of the threats Akuma sent in.

Soon enough, the bells sounded the next hour, amplified by magic to resonate through the city. Contestants rushed into the field to warm up and threw glares at each other, everyone an enemy. Only a few received hugs of luck or slaps on the back by their friends.

It was a competition that could allow you to rule a powerful kingdom. No matter relations, everyone was each other’s enemy for the length of it. 

With a deep breath, Marinette steeled herself. A speech might not be expected of her, but a few words might. Enthusiasm would be key, no matter the worry eating away at her mind about her personal guard and childhood friend.

Her parents walked up to a platform in front of the contestants and crowd, eliciting cheers from them all. Seeing them wave back with happiness made Marinette smile as well. They allowed for it to go on for a handful of moments before calling for silence.

“Welcome, our people,” Sabine Cheng said, soft voice carrying across with a simple spell. She giggled alongside her husband’s laugh when everyone cheered once more. “Thank you, thank you, but please, allow us a few moments of silence!”

A few laughs were scattered amongst the people though they soon quietened down. They were so happy about seeing their ruling king and queen in the flesh. Marinette wondered if they still would be if they knew of the potential danger they were put in.

Ignorance was bliss at the exchange of another’s suffering.

Marinette wouldn’t have it any other way. Portraits of agony during the war were etched into her mind due to history classes. The ones multiple meters under her were full of joy and happiness, smiles on the faces of all and children’s chubby cheeks flushed a healthy pink.

Even if it wasn’t heaven, the kingdom lived in peace for all of Marinette’s 20 years of life. With an heir for a new throne securing the relations between the Cheng and Dupain, tensions gladly faded between the two nations.

“As you all know,” her father’s voice boomed, loud and warm, “this competition is held close to my wife and I’s heart. After all, we all want the best for our daughter’s future!”

“We are aware this tradition is not typically held for heirs,” her mother continued. “However, quite a few years back, the royal family decided it was too cruel to marry someone based on a competition only.”

“With this in mind,” Tom said, “the winner is not guaranteed to marry our daughter, Crown Princess Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You will be allowed to take her on dates until she decides whether you’re worthy or not.”

A few grumbled and Marinette took note of their faces. That wouldn’t do at all.

From the corner of her eye, Marinette saw a guard make a signal with her hands. She felt the spell tingle its way through her skin and throat before it faded. It tickled when she was younger.

“I want to thank,” she started, making heads quickly turn towards her box, “my mother and father, Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, for allowing me to have this competition. This is an opportunity for many of you to join the national guard and for me to get to know one of you. There is no greater privilege.

“The competition shall start when the clock handle reaches the half hour! Please warm up to minimise chances of injury and remember all fatal wounds put upon an opponent are punishable.

“Enjoy!”

The crowd cheered as the competitors scrambled to find a free spot to warm up in. Marinette sent a smile at all those who looked up at her and tried not to scowl at the disrespect. Quite a few sauntered about with little henchmen following them along, no doubt meant to protect and thin the competition.

She leaned over to the closest guard and whispered, “Find me the names of the young masters in rich red. Such an auspicious colour is wasted on them.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” he nodded before walking away. Another guard was quick to take his place, nodding at her in greeting before settling on scanning the gathered people.

Marinette played the part for a few more minutes, throwing in a few waves here and there for good measure. It was to be a happy day where she could meet her potential “soulmate” after all. The sheer amount of gossip that would spread if the Dupain-Cheng princess, always with a smile on her face, was unhappy during the competition would be a headache. Much more than the one rising due to the heat.

She always enjoyed warmer weather and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to bask in sunlight. The entire place was stiff with too many emotions and nerves for her to handle.

With a last wave, Marinette turned her back to everyone and allowed a sigh to escape her lips. Inhaling, she took the few steps up a few stairs to her seat and settled to watch. A small fruit was snatched from the tray of snacks to occupy her mouth.

A quarter hour to go, according to the clock.

It felt like so much longer.

If something so small was so exhausting, how was she to get through the competition? Meeting with her potential spouse? Going on dates with a complete stranger determined to woo her?

None of them would act genuinely and the princess knew to be on her guard. Though it was within her right to refuse the marriage, even leaving the person at the altar or divorcing them if they proved to be a terrible consort, many would frown upon it. What kind of royal called upon a tradition already altered for more freedom and then not gratefully marry the winner?

The duality of humanity.

The Akuma’s threats were only rising in number along with her parents’ concern over her safety. To marry the strongest person in their combined kingdoms would provide unquestionable protection, they both agreed.

Marinette was not naive, or at the very least not anymore. Though her childhood was happy, she realised a cute baker wouldn’t sweep her off her feet with a mysteriously acquired white horse. She grew to expect a political marriage, even with her parents’ promise to only allow the union if she liked the potential partner.

 _‘We are at peace’_ , they said, loving smiles on their faces. _‘You have all the time in the world to find someone you love to be your consort, even if the selection is small.’_

Akuma was swift in their stretch along the border, the kingdom growing larger and larger by the day. There were whispers that they’d already become an empire amongst court, though the spies sent in confirmed nothing of the matter. None reached the core palace or entered the court yet, though they mingled into the big and political cities.

 _‘They have a ruthless army that conquered and pillaged without mercy. Blessing they didn’t touch the Dupain-Cheng border,’_ they whispered.

Yet, they’d gone silent a few weeks prior to the event currently held. Everyone was at a loss when the threats they grew accustomed to suddenly stopped.

A day went by peacefully.

A second day.

A third day.

A week.

Two.

Three.

A month.

Instead of comforting Marinette’s parents, they only became more and more worried as time went on. A sneaky elder saw the opportunity of further fortifying the Dupain-Cheng bloodline with another heir. He brought up the use of this tradition to find a worthy and strong consort for a royal, playing into all of the king and queen’s worries.

The princess couldn’t find it in herself to be mad at her parents’ love for her. After all, the embodiment of their love was the reason for this circus being put in place.

Marinette glanced at the giant clock inching towards the half hour. A handful of minutes were left.

Restless, Marinette scanned the gathered competitors. Many bounced in place and nervously laughed with their peers, a few practising their forms or glaring at those who looked for too long.

Pulling out a small notebook and pen from her dress’s pocket, she was glad to have had some foresight. The scribe on her left would record everything she said but it was always better to have your own notes.

Many of these young people seemed promising, but she would have to quickly take note of her favourite amongst the chaos. Making note of those who looked promising early would facilitate the task, though finding a diamond in the rough would also be great. She was sure there were also a few who hid their talent for fear of standing out.

Marinette could respect that, but she was sure she and the generals would be able to recognise them.

Few realised how involved she was with the royal and national guard.

Settled and organised, all Marinette could do was wait.

The competitors pounced on each other when they heard the sound of a horn, the clock having finally reached the half hour mark. Chaos erupted as those they were chatting with lunged at them, throwing their flags up. They exploded into smoke high in the air, making sure none could put it back on to cheat. At the same time, spells deployed on losers so they could avoid being trampled on until they could walk out or have someone attend to them.

“Blue hair,” Marinette declared as the crowd shrieked, writing on her notebook with barely a glance. The competition felt as chaotic as a war zone. “Navy and purple clothes, male, clean form, bright sword, lost on purpose.” 

While the scribe dutifully wrote, her scribbles went something more like:

_'blue h, navy e+ pur clo, m, clean, bri, L purpose’_

She noticed the man walk to the side with a small smile on his face before having her attention drawn back to the crowd. A short woman with bright pink hair was slashing through people twice her size with a massive grin on her face. She laughed harder yet at a specific tall person before yelping at a surprise attack.

“Pink hair, short female, vicious and driven, green clothing.”

_'pin h, shor f, vici e+ driv, g cloth’_

“Long ponytail, male, playful and creative, black and red clothing.”

_'l pony h, m, play e+ creat, b e+ r clo’_

On and on Marinette and the scribe wrote, soon having filled a page. The smoke clouding some details did nothing to impede her sharp eyes as she took note of everyone with potential. There were more than she dared hope for, she admitted. They would make fine guards if they were keen on accepting.

Adrien should be helping her with this. Or, hell, be on the field competing for her hand even if he held no romantic interest in her. Prove his worth further as her personal guard or something of the sorts.

Eventually, a figure clad in black caught her eye. A long and lean sword slashed at legs and made competitors fall, the man carefully non-fatal as he made his way around the field. Smoke followed his tail and Marinette took note of him.

“All black, blond male,” she said before squinting at him. “Hints of green.”

Marinette allowed her eyes to follow him for a few more seconds, nobody else standing out as the man made

“Your Royal Highness,” the guard at her right breathed. “Is this permitted?”

The man wore a mask.

Marinette pursed her lips as she watched the man work through everyone, making people fall as he went. He moved with an agility that reminded the princess of a cat and with something familiar in the wielding of his sword.

She stood from her seat and made her way back down the little stairs, closer to the sunshine. The smoke clouds were clustered in the middle of the field, fairly far away from her box but not enough to completely obscure her vision. From the lower position it was also higher than her sight line, making it so not everything was blocked.

The last competitors standing soon fell at his sword, using their clothes to block blood flow as healers rushed over. A few of those who backed up and surrendered helped the injured limp away. Marinette scanned them over and made sure none were suffering from major injury. One had a head wound but laughed it off to her buddy. She’d have to check on that one when everything was over and make sure she was kept at the palace’s public clinic for a while longer than the other competitors.

Amidst the fallen, injured, and people walking out of the field in defeat, only two figures stood: a woman with short hair glaring fierce eyes at the man clad in black. Her mouth was in a hard line and her features screamed of someone who did not usually show emotion. Sweat lined her face and her chest heaved.

She was annoyed at the masked man only grinning at her, not a hair out of place.

To work so hard to become someone or do something only to have someone breeze through with ease as though they were a genius was one of the most discouraging things in the world. The woman lasted this long and would receive her due attention even if she did not win.

Marinette took a pause and blinked. Why did she feel with such certainty that the woman would lose?

The two competitors circled each other for long enough to make the crowd restless and all the losers clear to the borders of the field. While the man only grinned wider, going as far as twirling his sword like the biggest meathead in history, the woman only seemed to steady herself further.

She was confident enough in her own abilities. Someone who rose to her talent through fighting. Marinette couldn’t help but lean forward ever so slightly in anticipation.

The man was the one who harshly brought his sword down onto the woman. She parried it with ease and pushed the sword back, diving closer to him so he wouldn’t be out of her reach.

He was more than a handful of inches taller than her. If she found herself in a position where he could reach her but she could not him, the fight would be finished. Thus went the curse of short arms when sword fighting, even if being smaller meant less target space. 

She aimed for his vulnerable legs, the taller height making it so most of the self defence was concentrated along the upper body. He jumped up and away before trying to twirl into a kick into her side she moved away from.

Something in the way he fought with her spoke of ease about fighting someone of smaller stature. It was not surprising the girl expressed the same trait for most sword fighters were tall men, but for the masked competitor? Not so much.

Marinette was not surprised when the man shamelessly grabbed some dirt and threw it, playing dirty. The woman was someone who valued a noble sword fight but this competition was not meant to be this. A sword was the preferred weapon of course, but it was not the only one brought in for the event.

A scowl made its way to the woman’s face at the move though, to her credit, she did not falter.

They continued to fight for multiple minutes, the crowd torn on who they should cheer for. At times, the masked man would throw in another dirty move. It continued on like an odd dance between two enemies that could’ve been friends.

Marinette hoped they would serve in the guards and get along. Both looked like they could teach some things to a few people.

The woman sword flew out of her hand and swung a wide arc at the masked man. He dodged and sent his own sword away with his eyes wide, though the grin on his face also grew with it.

It left his right side vulnerable and perfect for her to kick at.

Her aim and speed were perfect, Marinette noted. If she disarmed him for long enough and reached for his flag, she would win.

In the blink of an eye, the masked man caught the woman’s foot and his sword at her neck.

“Do you,” his voice echoed through the quiet, “surrender?”

A thin stream of red trickled down the woman’s neck, mixing with the bright red of her shirt. The crowd started cheering in earnest after the tense match, not allowing for Marinette to hear the response.

“The last woman, red top, red sword, short hair.”

_'last f, r top, r sw, sh hai’_

┊⋆｡˚. ੈ ┊

⋆✩


	2. 二

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> |･ω･｀)  
> |ω･｀)و ̑̑༉  
> |･｀)
> 
> enjoy! thank you for the support my loves <3

There were many things Marinette envisioned herself doing her future. Travelling for diplomacy, becoming queen, getting married to someone of noble blood, have an heir or two (maybe three), and more within those thoughts. Hopefully all with the one and only Adrien Agreste by her side, aka the worst kept secret of their kingdom.

Everyone was aware of their of close childhood friendship, many going as far as believing they were to be married. 

Marinette knew this to not be true, but it didn’t stop a certain part of her to yearn for it. For something impossible and foolish to connect them, other than the obvious friendship.

This competition was an opportunity for everyone and, most importantly, them. It didn’t matter that the winner was no royal, they would still receive a chance to marry the princess. If Adrien participated and won as her full faith dictated, the entire court could only give them their blessings for it was tradition. 

The little dreams Marinette indulged herself in once in a while were shattered soon enough.

Marinette looked at the ballroom full of people, dreading the time she would have to walk in. She only got a glance in before she had to duck back behind the curtain to make sure no one saw her. Noble families and certain lower class ones were all present to witness the princess’s first meeting with the champion. Over the next few days, they would make shows of going out into the capital and surrounding towns, fakes smiles plastered on their faces.

Unable to help herself, Marinette ran her hands over the heavy skirts, smoothing out a few imaginary ruffles. Her attendants did an excellent work of dressing her up, the red and white dress a beautiful mix of her parent’s cultures. She tightened the sash at her waist. Further yet, she fiddled with the ribbons around her wrists, stark crimson against her white top. No matter what she did to them, something felt off. 

_(Red and white were seen as good colours. Red meaning fortune to her mother. White meaning pureness to her father._

_Yet, when thinking of them from another point of view, their meanings were so different._

_Red for violence._

_White for death.)_

Jitters about public speaking were long gone, buried into Marinette’s childhood. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous.

After a few more seconds of fussing, she let the ribbons fall and rest. She was mature enough to admit that anyone would be feeling as such while meeting their future spouse. Future potential spouse, granted, but spouse nonetheless. A suitor. 

Marinette had no wish to have the masked man despise her, already aware of the heavy disappointment her parents would feel.

Peeking around a curtain, Marinette scanned the crowd. The king and queen were mingling with people but remained close to the mysterious winner, prying words out of his mouth often in an effort to know more about him. A stranger was a suitor to their only daughter after all. There was no information or reputation to stand on. 

She couldn’t see his expression no matter how much she glared at the back of his golden head. From the shake of his shoulders, he was at least faking happiness and laughter. 

A golden crown would look horrible on him, Marinette noted to herself. Mixes of silverwould work better, with only a few patterns of gold as embellishments. A tilt of his head to the side revealed a strip of skin and told her green gems would suit his warm tone well.

She would have to get in there soon, tasteful lateness calculated down to the second. The maid assigned to follow her around for the day kept glancing at the clock, wringing her hands together. 

Taking pity on her anxiety, Marinette asked, “How many more minutes?”

The girl made a soft ‘eep’ before bringing herself to answer with another look at the clock. “One minute and thirteen seconds, Crown Princess.”

Considering the time at which the event started, it would be when the large handle was a little after the I. A tad more than five minutes late, then. Years of punctuality beaten into her brain bristled at the idea, but she understood there was an appearance to keep. 

If she were a lower ranked daughter, she would have to be present early and welcome everyone personally. Being the only child meant she had to balance out coming in perfectly on time to these events and slightly late, if only to catch the room’s eyes. A sneaky way to keep people on their toes, if you will. 

Another but faster peek that pulled on the curtain allowed her to see Alya and Nino chatting with people. Did Nino not get promoted recently? Guilt and loneliness settled in at the knowledge she was truly not giving her closest friends their due attention. 

She’d been too focused on trying to understand the matter of Adrien disappearing. Her friends were worried as well and doing all they could to find the man, but they had not forgotten about her. They visited her during their breaks and Alya regularly sat in Marinette’s rooms for a chat about all the newest gossip, getting a few laughs out. 

Could she even call herself a good friend when she was not there for those she cared for? Could not come to the root of her closest loved one’s disappearance?

Marinette pushed the curtain closed again, making sure it was done so gently no one would notice the motion, relying on the distraction created by the large grouping of people. Instead of allowing herself to dwell, she turned to a mirror to get a look at her makeup and dress. She trusted her maids with all of her heart and it wasn’t her first time doing something like this, but a certain anxiety gnawed at her stomach nonetheless.

It was not a normal gathering, this everyone knew. It was one that could determine much of her future, even if it did not mean her life could be ruined. 

She would be alright if everything did not work out.

She and the court would be far from pleased if it didn’t.

Marinette adjusted the right lapel around her chest and the sash a her waist somehow holding her skirts up one last time. Little tweaks, if only to satisfy some perfectionism. She shook her arms to get rid of pins and needles in her flesh, ribbons floating along with them. A last glance at the clock gifted her a countdown and she waved a hand at the nervous maid, dismissing her. Soon, there was only Marinette herself and the clock for company, the buzz of conversation sometimes slipping in. 

Three. 

Two.

One.

Spine straight, shoulders pulled back, and chin with a slight tilt up, Marinette spread the curtains fully open herself. She stood there with hands on the heavy fabric, allowing people to take in her appearance and drink their first fill. By the end of the night, she’d interact with most of them. 

Marinette always compared this moment to the beginning of a show, where actors were frozen into poses behind the coverings before they lifted.

“Announcing,” a man out of sight exclaimed, a spell most likely casted to raise his voice, a beat after Marinette stepped out. “Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess Marinette of the Cheng and Dupain royal bloodlines. May she live a long and prosperous life!”

The people gathered bowed, some only slightly inclined and others going down to their waists. Alya’s head cheekily looked up with a smile on her lips instead of looking down the entire time required. Marinette’s parents only beamed, expressions all sunshine and happiness. 

Her potential spouse only lowered his head and kept his back straight, artfully messy blonde locks hiding his face.

Interesting.

“May she live a long and prosperous life!”

The walk down the stairs was agonising and long, people having risen after a few seconds and keeping their eyes fixed on her as they gossiped and whispered. Her parents seemed close to exploding with joy, their excitement brimming to the border they could contain within themselves.

It wasn’t even her wedding yet. Would they cry on that day? Watching the excessive amount of pride in her father’s eyes, Marinette thought they would.

She couldn’t help the fondness coming to life in her chest, but it was infuriating that the man in black just _wouldn’t raise his head_. There was little care in her heart about what he looked like, considering the mask her wore, but damn it did Marinette want to give the winner a face. 

He wouldn’t be able to compare to Adrien anyway.

_(Adrien wasn’t here for them to be compared.)_

(Perhaps Marinette was being unfair with her expectations.)

(In her defence, she would spend at least months with this man.)

(She was allowed to have standards.)

Marinette walked to a stop in front of her parents, the few steps separating them all enough for the winner’s features to stay hidden. His head was bowed so perfectly that Marinette would have to stand right in front of him to see his face, considering their height difference.

“Your Majesties,” she greeted. She fell into the bow traditional to her father’s birth kingdom and then to that of her mother’s, addressing them both respectively. “Royal Father, Royal Mother.”

“Marinette,” her mother said, stepping forward and helping her out of the bow with all the gentleness she could muster. She placed a warm, warm hand on Marinette’s cheek and she leaned into the touch. They smiled at each other and the princess was struck again by how she’d grown taller than her own mother. The last growth spurt was surprising to them all. “My dear daughter.”

“Mama,” she giggled. “It has only been a few hours.”

“A few hours during which we got to know this sweet young man,” she tutted with a laugh, before hooking their arms together and leaning to her ear. “Very polite, but suspicious. Your father and I can’t say we hate him.”

“Ah well,” Marinette said, keeping a sweet appearance and waving at an acquaintance in the distance. “Are we making this some sort of competition? On who will get to know him best? I’m afraid that the dates will be unfair to you two, what with how busy the king and queen are.”

Sabine whispered so close their cheeks almost touched, “We’ll see dear. You know we want to know everything about our future son in law.”

Marinette ignored her and said through a clenched smile, “Please rise, sir...?”

The winner did indeed rise from his bow, though his head still had to be down for their gazes to meet.

His eyes were unnaturally green and cat-like, a lighter circle where the irises should be and the rest bright green. The pupil was slit to almost needles in the ballroom’s strong lighting.

Marinette tried not to startle, having faced her own share of odd people. There was the memorable nomads she met once who donned great wings on their backs. They kicked up sand all around them when they eventually rose towards the sky, their bodies becoming little dots in the horizon after mere moments. Watching a few young ones learning to fly was one of the most adorable experiences of Marinette’s life.

Then again, he could be wearing a glamour. Marinette scrutinised his face for a flaw under the pretence of curiosity, searching for signs. A too perfect appearance was the easiest one to spot, but the mask did a perfect job of obscuring certain features.

“I prefer to go by Chat Noir for the moment, Your Royal Highness,” the mysterious man said, tilting his head ever so slightly further at the introduction. There was always a ridiculous amount of bowing in Marinette’s life as well. The way he stood to look into her eyes could already be counted as a bow! A small and lazy one, to be precise, but one nonetheless. 

“Ahh,” she answered, keeping her tone mild. “I trust you would reveal your name to me in due time? That is, of course, if you wish for us to marry.”

“I look forward to having us become better acquainted, Your Royal Highness,” was Chat Noir’s polite response and perfect deflection. Not even a twitch at the mention of marriage, whether out of dread or out of excitement. Marinette’s eyes narrowed further, something in her subconscious telling of all the ways this could spiral into utter chaos. Some might swoon over the mystery of the situation, calling the whole thing romantic, but the court was full of vipers vying for power. 

For the first time in the evening, music started up in the grand ballroom. Amplified, it covered the room like a blanket, drowning out the furthest chatter of the crowd. You could still hear those speaking close well, but it gave an odd sense of privacy despite the sheer amount of people inside. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw that quite a few guests escaped to the balconies and garden already. Giggling children dragged their friends out, having done their rounds of greetings and responsibility to be polite. They would much rather play in the grass with their friends, breathing in fresh air, rather than constantly look up at adults twice their size. A few teenagers clutched each other’s hands and tried to slip away from sticky relatives and family friends. 

Marinette looked at the young man again. At least, if his appearance wasn’t a glamour, he was attractive. 

Unbidden, an old fantasy rose to her mind once again.

One where three little ones shrieked with joy in empty palace halls, her bestest friend at her side watching over them with her.

One where she went to sleep late after pouring over paperwork only to have strong arms wrap around her and lull her to sleep in bed. 

One where-

“Shall we, Your Royal Highness?” Chat Noir ask, falling into a bow customary to the west when asking for a dance, hand offered out. 

“That’s a mouthful to say so often, is it not?” Marinette mused, letting him wait and squirm for a few seconds. His composure didn’t let up, to some of her disappointment. “Why don’t you try… Dianxia?”

“Shall we, dianxia?” he asked again, the syllables rolling off his tongue in the right tones and with the correct pronunciation. Marinette could feel her mother’s exhilaration at hearing him call her by this title. 

_(If Sabine were a foolish teenager, she would gasp and clutch her husband’s sleeve to shake his arm with excitement and glee. It ended up being that more of Thomas’s people moved to the city in which their home was located, even if there was a wonderful mix in the new capital. She felt bad for assuming, what with new and mixed generations and all, but she didn’t expect this of her daughter’s suitor based on his appearance._

_Sabine was determined to have her fun with the boy soon. There was a friendly competition to win after all.)_

It would be a way for her to witness the man’s familiarity with various royal customs. The dancing did not come up too often, but it was not as though this Chat Noir could afford making a fool of himself in any way.

Marinette considered him for a few more moments. There was something mischievous in Chat Noir’s eyes, but he did not seem the type to enjoy being embarrassed. There was confidence in his tone and ease in his pose, hinting to all positive things. Pride in the set of his shoulders, even if kindness was deep in his eyes.

She was in no position to refuse, and as such allowed her hand to gently rest on Chat Noir’s gloved one.

“Of course.”

He lead her to the centre of the room with ease, weaving them through people that did not see them. Other little things he did subtly. 

The amount he tilted his head in acknowledgement, the way he held his shoulders and kept his back straight, the way he smiled. Their hands were held high between them, bodies at a respectable distance but close enough for people to understand they were in this together. 

The music seamlessly shifted to a song better suited for a dance by the time they reached the centre of the room.

If Marinette looked back, she was sure to see her parents about to tear up or having an emotional reaction within those lines. Then again, she also had to consider the fact they were born and raised royalty. Surely they would be able to keep their composure.

Taking her chances, Marinette looked over her shoulder quickly.

Her parents met her eyes with blinding grins, forcing her to look away under the intensity. 

Chat Noir settled them into a simple but appropriate starting pose, again keeping them subtly closer than necessary in the most polite way one could. During the seconds where they stayed like so, Marinette considered which of them should take the lead. Chat Noir’s hand made a firmer press against her waist, as though he read her mind.

In any way, it would be simpler for Chat Noir to make a fool of himself while dancing rather than socialising. It was a skill he could learn and as such be a mistake excused with haste, as opposed to the impression he left. No one was expecting someone who fought and defeated so many in the competition to be a good _dancer_ of all things.

So far, there were no problems in how he handled interactions.

Should she be putting her faith in his dancing skills as well?

Before she could ponder further on her decisions, Chat Noir led them into a simple waltz. They created wider and wider circles as they went, their surprisingly smooth steps creating more space for them to dance. On the next song, more couples would join and fill the cleared floor.

They kept their eyes locked on each other’s faces, aware movement would lead to dizziness. It was a long time since Marinette had to look down when dancing to make sure she was not stepping on her partner’s feet. Even then, it was after a decade of practice. She expected the man to glance down at least once in a while. Her dress was not the most voluminous of her closet, but it obscured both pairs of feet when their bodies were close. It should’ve made everything harder for him. 

“Tell me, dianxia,” Chat Noir started, voice steady despite their increasing speed around the room. He twirled her away before pulling them close once again. “What is on your mind?”

“Many things, good sir,” she answered, moving them towards the middle of the room and into steps that only allowed their arms to touch. Their forearms crossed, the free one tucked behind the small of their backs. They turned there for a few seconds before swaying in place as the music shifted to something slower. Both of Chat Noir’s hands were around her waist and Marinette let him take control. 

It allowed giggling couples to join in, their happiness and laughter rising at the fun. 

“Then, may I hear one of them?” Chat Noir asked again, undeterred.

Marinette hummed, just loud enough for it to be heard by Chat Noir over the music and laughter in the background. “There are a few obvious ones regarding the person across from me.”

Chat Noir’s laugh as he twirled her made a certain warmth curl in her belly, one she could not quite understand. It was different to the one that spread through her body when with her parents or the one tight in her chest when with Adrien. She hesitated on naming it, didn’t wish to have something to call it.

Chat Noir said, features charming and lax but voice serious when he caught her hand and moved them into a lazy waltz, “I have no intentions of pressuring you into a marriage union, dianxia.”

They separated again, hands doing a simple dance between them before returning.

“Then what is in my thoughts now, dear sir,” she said, “is the reason why you’ve decided to participate in this competition.”

“I’m afraid a few matters of my heart are private, even between us, dianxia,” Chat Noir smiled. “Do believe it was not with malicious intention.”

They silently waltzed for a few more minutes, both lost in their thoughts. An intrusive one slipped into Marinette’s head about how they both kept a mask up with lack of difficulty. 

“I shall be the judge of this in the near future, sir Chat Noir,” she eventually said, bowing out of their dance and slipping away into the crowd, having much on her mind to think over.

But first, to deal with her guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ღ 殿下 [ diànxià | TYEHN-SHYAH ] ➵ chinese for "your (royal) highness"  
> chinese has four tones, which is why Marinette comments on Chat Noir's pronunciation being accurate.
> 
> I was like, tgcf anyone? still need to finish the novel ahaha I'm on book 4

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading and remember to give a kudo if you enjoyed! leave a comment and chances are I'll burst into tears <3


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